The Seven Deadly Sins
by SparkieSchteff
Summary: Inspired by my art project for college, The 7sins reminds me of Vince seeing as he commits some of them. 7sins - 7chapters. 1st chapter contains reference to slash, not graphical at all. Rated T just in case. Disclaimer: I don't own! Barratt&Fielding do.
1. Lust

**Okay so basically my Final Major Project at Art college is based on the Seven Deadly sins so to get myself in the mood (and because Vince Noir commits most of the sins anyway) I decided to start this.  
I will finish Rip my jeans etc don't worry, a chapter for it is half way through writing atm but this idea wouldn't leave me alone.**

**Basically 7 chapters for 7 sins. Not every sin will be written in the style I have for this one.  
And I'm writing them in order (least to most deadly) but I think Lust is more a deadly sin and shouldn't be first but hey I didn't write the rules all them years ago.**

**Anyway, this contains reference of slash but it's not at all graphic (I find it uncomfortable writing graphic fiction)  
Enjoy x**

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Lust 

_Unlawful sexual desire, such as desiring sex with a person outside marriage_

It had all happened so fast, in a flash in fact but to him it had taken minutes, hours, months, years, a lifetime of lustful passion.

It may have been a drunken fumble under the sheets but to him it had never felt so good, he wakes first and props himself up on his elbows to watch the other man as he sleeps. He leans on his side bringing a hand up to his face to rest on and just watches for as long as he can before falling back asleep, his head hits the pillow crushing his arm threatening to numb his fingertips until morning.

**Slap.  
****Palms hit a grimy brick wall.  
****Noses inches away from touching.  
****Breath swirling in clouds of mist with each pant.  
****Alcohol swirling around their bloodstream.**

He wakes again and sighs glancing at the clock, it's too early to get up. He pulls his tired body upwards and leans his back against the headboard and sits in the darkness. He notices a book on the bedside table but doesn't dare turn on the light to read it incase he wakes the slumbering man beside him. He clasps his hands together and watches his thumbs swirl round and round in circular motions. A headache hums faintly in the back of his mind, silently he grumbles to himself at the thought of having a hangover then the thoughts mix and mingle with others re-creating the events that led to him sitting up in bed.

**Home.  
****Hands fumble in the pockets of coats.  
****Keys jingle about and are thrust into the door.  
****Smothered in vicious passionate kisses.  
****Racing into the flat.  
****Slamming the door and locking it.  
****Tearing clothes from each other.  
****Tossing them to the floor like a breadcrumb trail.  
****Stumbling up the carpeted stairs.  
****Lips locked.  
****Hands gliding over skin and through hair.**

His head turns to glance out through the open door and into the lounge, he spots his skinny jeans with the belt still lopped through and one of his socks lying next to them on the floor. His boxers lie in the doorway along with the other man's, he notices the room smells of alcohol making his stomach churn.

**Crash.  
****Through the bedroom door.  
****Stripped both of underwear.  
****Thrown onto the bed.  
****Leapt on after.  
****Drunken fumbling, kisses, groping, squeezing.  
****Positioning.  
****Steadying.  
****Panting.  
****Grinning.**

'Are you ready?' he hears the words echo in his head over and over, he stares at a certain spot on the bed, a certain spot where he that night had made passionate love with his flatmate. Drunken passionate love that his flatmate would most probably regret when he wakes up, but for now it was just him and his thoughts and he had not one single regret but only guilt.

**Nodding.  
****Trying to be gentle.  
****Trying not to hurt him.  
****Kisses.  
****He strokes his hair to soothe and relax him.  
****It turns him on further.  
****Then...**

He fiddles with a lock of hair while still gazing at the bed, his eyes glaze over as the memories flood back to him and he smiles but then stops.

He had missed the orgasms, the sex, the pleasure, the affection for a while and craved it, he was sexually frustrated up until last night when he finally fulfilled his need.

**In.  
****Slowly but surely in.  
****Thrusting, kissing, squeezing, moaning.  
****Drunken moans.  
****Sexual pleasure.  
****Guilty secret.**

He feels guilt ridden as he glances at the man, all he wanted was to feel fantastic inside, so fantastic that he felt he would explode.

**Eruption.  
****Pleasure bursts and sprinkles throughout their bodies.  
****Flooding their limbs with warmth and exhaustion.  
****They slow.  
****To a stop.  
****Then remain there for a lifetime in each other's arms.  
****Cuddling.  
****Gasping.  
****Panting.  
****Wishing to go back in time and do it all again.  
****Trying not to vomit from the alcohol.**

He drops his hand and stops messing with his hair and freezes when the man next to him shifts in his sleep and rolls over, he breathes a sigh of relief when he is still sleeping.

**Sleep.  
****Under the covers.  
****Head on chest.  
****Arm around shoulder.  
****Stroking skin.  
****Kissing hair.  
****Sighing a goodnight.  
****Welcoming a hangover.  
****Saying hello to regret.  
****Saying hello to guilt.**

He watches him sleep however soon enough he starts to stir, panicking he remains where he is and waits for the man to gather his bearings and remember whatever he can from the previous night's events. His eyes flutter open, he looks around and discovers he is in his own bed but with an intruder, he lifts his aching head wearily, looks his already awake flatmate in the eye and mutters one thing.

"What the hell happened last night, Vince?"

**Hello regret.  
****Hello guilt. **


	2. Gluttony

**Wow! Thankyou for the amazing feedback, I didn't expect this to be _that_ popular with people!  
So this is Gluttony and it doesn't follow on from the previous chapter and it isn't written in the same style, it is however written in first person through the mind of Vince. Gluttony was kinda hard but I got there in the end and am quite happy with it.  
Next sin up is Greed, should be interesting.  
Oh and the bit about the worm, true story. Bloody happened to me din't it! **

**Oh and no offence to anyone who is Vegetarrian on here :) And I have nothing against fast-food just the fact their drinks are shit XD **

**Anyway, enjoy xxx**

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Gluttony 

_Wasting of food, either through eating too much food, drink or drugs, misplaced desire for food for its taste, or not giving food to the needy_

It's flat, flat warm Coca Cola. Packed full of sugar, about sixteen-teaspoon fulls, something like that anyway. I don't always remember what Howard tells me.  
It's also really watered down, gross. But I drink it anyway, everyone does. It's like the law, no matter how shit McDonald's cokes are we still buy them and still insist on having them with our burger and fries.  
Talking about the burger and fries they're delicious, the chips are a little cold and over salted but I'll get over it eventually, that's what the coke is for, to wash down the salt. There's enough salt on this single chip to melt an entire family of slugs, imagine that!

The burger is hot, fresh off the grill even though I had to wait about ten minutes for it. It's still delicious and packed full of cheese slices, Howard says it isn't real cheese but I couldn't care less, it all tastes the same to me, all tastes like food.  
I flicked the onions off, gross, who likes onions? And the green things you get on them, you always get two on a double burger. That's just double gross! I always end up chucking the veggie bits in the bin, it's McDonald's, world-known for making us unhealthy so why bother filling their burgers with rabbit food? No point! The green stuff always ends up rolled up in a tissue at the start of the meal, I've seen nearly every customer pick off the veggies and flick them onto the tray or back into the burger box, why do McDonald's even bother with it when people are just gonna get rid of it?

Pointless.  
They make good burgers though.  
But shit drinks, my coke tastes like cardboard now.

---

Sweets are the best invention in the whole world! Bollocks to all that 'they rot the teeth and mind' stuff, do they hell! They paint my mind in every colour of the rainbow, but not the dark and gloomy colours, happy colours that brighten the place up. They spark my imagination and make me grin stupidly, I love sweets. Packed full with sugar and additives and artificial colours, I don't know what the last two are but they taste damn good!  
I like the sweets that resemble animals the best like the long jelly snakes or the small chewy green turtles but I do love lollypops and sweets that crackle in my mouth. I like sherbet too especially flying saucers; I bit them open as a kid and drained the powder inside. Sent me dizzy for hours, I used to dart about everywhere grinning madly not caring about anything.

Chocolate is another favourite, as long as it's milk chocolate I'll eat it. I remember trying some dark chocolate once, not knowing what the hell it was. I bought this bar from the shop and tried one piece, spat it out and threw the rest of the bar away. Dark chocolate is so not nice; it lacks sweetness and just tastes bitter. Howard said it's better for you than milk or white chocolate but I think it's worse, it doesn't taste too good on the tongue!  
White chocolate is simply amazing the way it melts in the mouth, feels all creamy and light. I love Milky Bars but Galaxy bars beat them by a mile.

Can't beat chocolate.  
But sweets are pretty genius, they win hands down.

---

I've never liked cooking much, can't cook to be honest. The best I can do is order a pizza or walk to the nearest fast-food place and order something. Why cook when I can have my food cooked for me?  
I nearly burnt the flat down cooking anyway and even after that I decided to order a pizza, I just hate cooking. It's so boring!

Most of the stuff Howard cooks for me is really nice though, he can cook and he doesn't mind doing it for me. I remember though once he baked this weird dish for me but he had to go out, you know? Places to go, people to see. That's what he said anyway, he was prob'ly just goin to go see one of his Jazzy-freak friends. But anyway, he cooked this...Thing, I don't know what it was but I didn't like the look of it. It had green stuff poking out of it, Howard calls it salad but I call it gross so I left it on the side and ordered Chinese, which was far better.

Salad is so nasty.  
And it's rabbit's food, why would I want to let the rabbits starve?  
That's just cruel.  
No offence if you're a vegetarian by the way.  
I'm just sayin is all.

---

My fingers get all covered in grease when I eat fried chicken, it's so messy to eat but is so addictive. It's the skin that tastes the best, I remember once I bought a whole bucket of chicken to myself and just ate the skin off each piece leaving the meat, it was well nice!

The chips were better than McDonald's fries too, not as much salt on. In fact, they didn't even use salt! Genius, McDonald's should take a lesson from them on salting their chips. The Pepsi still ended up all watery though when the seventeen ice-cubes melted, I didn't count them I just guessed. They always over-dose on ice-cubes at fast food places, I think it's so they save the drinks. Something like that, I don't know...Howard told me once but I guess I forgot. I should listen more carefully to him.

But why should I when he says fried chicken is bad for me?  
It shouldn't be so tasty then!

---

Satsumas are pretty genius; I don't eat them though. Nah, only chuck them. They're great for throwing at one another; me and Howard did once in our pants. It was fun!  
Sure it looked a bit mad these two guys in their pants and shoes outside a random shop throwing satsumas at one another, I remember an old woman passed and pulled a face muttering something about 'such a waste', something like that. I was too busy battling temptation to lob a satsuma at her head.

Satsumas are great for throwing.  
I wouldn't recommend eating them though.  
I found a green worm in one once and ended up tossing across the room in disgust.  
Haven't touched one since.  
Gross.

---

Damn, finished my coke now, well it was more like liquid cardboard in the end and now I need to pee badly.  
Oh, there's a BurgerKing over there.  
I like their chips, they don't salt them at all and the burgers aren't as flat and shit as McDonald's ones, the cheese is still the same though. And BK uses more lettuce and tomatoes on their burgers, sick! Oh well, I'll just peel the rabbit food off again and chuck it in the bin.  
Maybe I can get another coke while I'm at it, or a Pepsi. Whichever they do in BK.  
They're all the same though.  
They end up tasting like watery cardboard in the end.  
They make good burgers too though.


	3. Greed

**This one is a bit small and it's set before the events that happen in Lust.  
It may not be as good as Lust but I quite like it and hope you all do too  
Next up is Sloth  
And a couple of them will link with the slashy contents of Lust, not sure if Sloth will but if I can find a way for it to link then I'll go for it  
Anyway, enjoy :) xx**

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Greed 

_Greed is when somebody wants more things than the person needs or can use  
_

He wanted some new clothes; he always wanted new clothes. He loved going into a shop and browsing the rails, pulling out T-shirts, un-folding jeans, holding garments up to his chest to test the sizes or laying them over his legs to check the lengths but mainly he was checking how they would look on him. Checking to make sure they would look good in his wardrobe.  
If he saw it, if it suited him, if it stood out from the rest and if it was his size, he would get it.  
Sometimes he didn't even care if it wasn't his size, as long as he had it.  
In a way he was only decorating his wardrobe which was already bursting with clothing and accessories, half of the stuff in there he never actually wore.

In his arms he had bundles of clothing, seven pairs of black drainpipe jeans hung over one arm while a mass of colourful T-shirts hung over the other, accessories dangled from the fingertips on one hand while the other carried three pairs of shoes, somehow. Before making it to the dressing room he had spotted a jacket that caught his eye, one that he had immediately wanted the minute he saw it causing him to push the clothing into the arms of an assistant. He had run to the jacket, picked his size and gathered his clothes back into his own arms. The assistant had mumbled something about a limit but he wasn't listening and instead had hurried off behind one of the doors and locked it.

The clothes did fit him.  
Well most did, some hung limp and baggy while some seemed too tight. The high knee boots had slipped on perfectly and he could walk in them, a pair of Converse, his sixtieth pair to be exact, were also fine but would drop to pieces if he wore them too much and the black boots suited him perfectly.  
The drainpipe jeans were tight fitting but he liked them that way claiming they were 'cool' even though he found it hard sitting down in them because the waistline would slip down his backside revealing his boxers. He took this as an excuse to try on several different belts which he had gathered up from the shop floor in under five minutes, a new record for him.

After he changed back into his clothes he wore to the shop he paid for everything he had tried on, the total coming to a huge number well over a hundred.  
He even bought two of the same jacket, the only difference being the colour; one was black while the other was white.

With several carrier bags labelled 'Top Shop' in his hands he had finally departed and made for home, his arms were dragged down and nearly torn off from the insane weight the clothing offered.

More than half the things he had bought he didn't really need.  
'My wardrobe will like them.' He thought to himself while he had examined several T-shirts 'And they will look great on the floor tonight.' He had pondered while checking a pair of jeans looked good on him in the mirror 'The belts will look amazing if I hang them over my bed post.' He grinned when the shopkeeper had stuffed his purchases into a plastic bag 'And the jackets will look great next to each other hung up.'

Before making it home, however, another shop had caught his attention. One that sold make-up more than anything.  
He had stopped outside, set down four carrier bags and had reached into his jeans pocket pulling out a black tube. He removed the cap to check how much eyeliner was in it, more than half.  
'Oh, I need a new eyeliner.' He shrugged when he picked up the bags and headed into the shop.  
After all, he needed to look good for later when he would be going out for a drink with his best friend.


	4. Sloth

**So yesterday I found out via Sky News (Which I hardly ever watch) that the Seven Deadly Sins has been updated to 14 sins... Daft? A bit yes in my opinion. The newest sins are genetic experimentation, pollution, social injustice, drug abuse, abortion, poverty and excessive wealth and will most probabaly not be included in this or my college project.  
Anyway, just thought I'd mention that and this chapter is the 2nd version, yeah I wrote two versions because I hated the 1st x) **

**Next up is Wrath which will be linked to Lust...Bit obvious it would be linked anyway!  
Enjoy xx**

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**Sloth **

_**Laziness, idleness and wastefulness of time that a person has**_

**07:30am**

A loud ringing interrupts his sleep, he scrunches his eyes up and screws the corners of the duvet up into his fists pulling it over his head completely to hide the sunlight streaming through his curtains. It doesn't, however, block out the incessant ringing.  
"Shut up." He mumbles to himself, the ringing increases in volume tearing through his delicate head and hitting several nerves on the way.  
"Shut up!" He screams forcefully flicking his leg upwards knocking the clock off the window cill and onto the floor where it carries on ringing. He mumbles a disapproving noise into his duvet as he struggles from his warm cosy bed onto the carpeted floor where he crawls over to the clock and slams a hand down on the 'off' button.  
"Thank you." He mutters stifling a yawn and climbing back into bed, the clock reads half seven in the morning. He doesn't want to get up for work so instead snuggles himself under the duvet and buries his head into the pillow allowing himself at least half an hour more sleep.

**08.00am**

No clock to wake him up this time, only his friend Howard.  
"Come on, get up Vince. We open shop in an hour." He orders as he barges into the bedroom and flings back the curtains letting more sunlight pour in.  
"Get out." Vince mumbles into his pillows "I'm tired."  
"Just hurry up and get up. If you at least get up now you'll be at work for gone ten." Howard leaves not bothering to shut the door. Vince pulls his duvet up and over his head one more time nearly blocking out all the light then shuts his eyes and yawns again.

**09.00am**

He remains in bed and doesn't even twitch as Howard calls him to get up again, failing he retreats to the shop to open up for the day.  
Vince shifts on his bed and rolls onto his side, he tries to open his eyes but they feel heavy and sensitive to light so leaves them shut. He snuggles his face against his pillow and sighs loudly before yawning yet again.

**10.00am**

He stares at the wall for a while having managed to open his eyelids, he wraps his hands in the duvet and brings it up to his mouth, he sighs loudly, maybe out of boredom. He shuts his eyes wanting to dream; he imagines pretty shapes in his head then puts them together to create figures. He paints them with his imagination but then everything turns black and white against his will, he opens his eyes almost as if he was resetting the dream then shuts them again. A rainbow flashes before his eyes but is also drained of colour, he gives up and shifts onto his back starring up at the ceiling.  
He gazes round the room and wiggles his toes a little, he stretches his arms out and cracks his knuckles then yawns widely. He counts to five, tries to haul himself up into a sitting position but doesn't even manage half way; he flops back down onto his mattress feeling his head sink snugly into his pillow. He was too comfortable to get up and was probably expected in work by now; he shuts his eyes again and tries to concentrate on the images in his head.

**11.00am**

He is fully awake now, fully awake and bored but completely comfortable. He glances to his left in hope of finding a magazine but they're too far away meaning he'd have to get out of bed then hop back in to get one but the thought of the cold air surrounding his warm pod was unbearable. He shifts in his bed a little trying to pull himself upwards but his early morning weakness gets the better of him causing him to flop back down awkwardly on his elbows, he remains like that for several minutes until he looses all feeling in his arms.

**12.00pm**

He had lay in bed for a whole hour with his eyes shut pretending to be asleep, Howard had come up three times to try and get him out of bed, no such luck.  
Vince's bed was a lovely cocoon of warmth that he wasn't ready to emerge from yet, he had tried several times to get up but had always failed, he felt too lazy and too comfortable and enjoyed lying in bed even though he was bored.  
He grips the side of his duvet with his hand and lays completely rigid; quickly he pulls it back only to snap it back over his body when the cold air shocks his exposed flesh. He thinks about getting changed in bed then waiting several minutes until his clothes warmed up but that would mean him getting out of his personal paradise to retrieve the clothing.  
In the end he gives up thinking and lies in silence again.

**01.00pm**

Finally he pulls himself out of bed only to go to the toilet; he had even made his bed and straightened the duvet out before leaving for the bathroom.  
When he gets back to his room he looks longingly at his bed, he pushes a hand under the duvet touching the soft mattress, it was all still warm from when he had been lay in it, perfectly warm. Cosy warm. It beckoned him to climb back in and have just another short five minutes in there but he knew he shouldn't.  
He pushes his whole arm under the duvet and smiles at the softness of the sheets and the warmth inside, he crawls back in, temptation taking over him and snuggles up into a tight comfy ball scrunching the duvet up in his arms, a soft smile plastered on his face. He shivers slightly from having ventured out of the covers but soon warms up with the help of his beloved bed.

**03.30pm**

Howard looses all patience with Vince and hurries up the stairs to his room to find the younger man tucked up in his duvet, without thinking he storms over and grips the covers with both hands. In a flash he snaps the duvet back allowing the cold air to break the barrier of warmth and send Vince's skin into floods of goosebumps.  
"What the fuck!" He squeals trying to grab the warm covers back, Howard shakes them almost as though he is trying to rid the sheets of their warmth "Fuck off! I was comfy!"  
"Tough, get up!" Howard orders chucking the duvet to the floor as far away from the bed as possible. Vince simply lies back down with his arms folded across his chest, his limbs shivering from the shock of the cold air.  
"I'd rather lie here."  
"You lazy fucker." Howard mutters as he leaves the room. Vince stares at his duvet in its crumpled cold heap on the floor, he longs for it to fly towards him and lay itself over his body, he wants to offer it some body heat and warm the two of them up again. He considers going to gather it up into his arms but he feels pretty comfortable, if a little cold, where he is.

**05.00pm**

"Fuck it, I'm freezing!" He finally curses while leaping up towards the duvet and pulls it round his tiny frame. He jumps back onto the bed, lets his head hit the pillow and ignores the pleas of his stomach for food.


	5. Wrath

**This contains a lot of cursing, sorry but it is anger!  
This leads on immediately after the events of Lust. I'm not entirely sure I captured the sin entirely but I'm quite happy with this.  
Next up is Envy, which might be connected to Lust and Wrath...We'll see :)  
Anyway, enjoy and sorry for the huge delay in writing. This college project is taking up most of my available time. **

**Wrath**

_Inappropriate feelings of hatred, revenge or even denial, as well as punitive desires outside of justice_

"What the hell happened last night, Vince?" The words echo in his mind as he tries to gather his thoughts and string them into a reasonable explanation. Nothing comes straight away, only one thing which he mutters under his breath while fumbling with the sheets between his fingers.  
"We were drunk."

**Calm.  
Both are equally calm if a little shocked.  
****A little shaken.  
****Maybe still slightly drunk.  
Neither can be certain.  
**

"Tell me we didn't." He almost whispers it back at Vince wanting no one else to hear of their drunken night together. Vince turns and looks into his eyes with his own deep blue ones.

**Blue eyes.  
Full of guilt.  
Full of passion, a burning desire for more sex.**

"We did." He states while biting his lip, he runs his tongue over his dry lips then squashes the flesh of his bottom lip between his white teeth once again.

**Soft lips.  
A tongue with a desire for another kiss.  
A taste for sex.**

"Oh no..." He manages to mutter while clutching at his head making Vince realise his faint headache has grown.

**His head.  
Pain pounds at the front of his brain.  
Smashing through the skull.  
Trying to split his head in two.  
Hangover. **

"Why did I let you take me out!" He panics making Vince jump slightly, the younger man's neutral face creases into a deep frown making his beautiful features appear dark and angry.  
"Me? So this is my fault now!"

**Boiling.  
Anger swims inside their stomachs.  
Laughing.  
Taunting.  
Begging for them to yell at each other.  
It wants to be set free.**

"Yes! It's always your bloody fault! You're so...So..."  
"So what? Go on Howard. Say it, say whatever you were gonna say!" Vince sits up away from the headboard, the quilt still wrapped over the bottom half of his body, he watches as Howard gets up and gets dressed hurriedly ignoring Vince "Say it for fuck sake!"

**Boiling point.  
Screaming begins.  
Shredding the throat.  
Piercing the silence of the flat.  
The quiet of the street is shattered.  
Cheeks redden.  
Words increase in volume.  
They become deadly and abusive.  
Poison.**

"You are addicted to sex." He says it quickly and bluntly without emotion "You go out, get drunk and shag whatever you fucking can! As long as it has a pulse, you'll fuck it. You don't care as long as you get some satisfaction. You are shallow!" He takes a deep breath "I may not be able to remember much of last night but I fucking regret it!"  
"You can't regret what you can't remember!" Vince spits back, furious at what his friend had said.  
"Don't try and get the upper hand here, Vince. You need to grow the fuck up!" Howard moves closer to the younger man's face with a threatening expression "Grow up and save yourself before its too late."

**The anger becomes too much.  
It spills over board.  
Bubbles through his veins.  
Reaches his hands and clenches them into fists.  
His lungs inhale precious air deeply.  
His heart pounds furiously in his chest.**

"I didn't plan on shagging _you_ y'know!" He yells, his voice wavers painfully with anger making it slightly higher than usual.  
"Oh so you were gonna target a drunk defenceless woman and fuck her instead?"  
"Why are you making me out to sound like some serial murderer?" Howard shakes his head while doing up his trousers, he leaves the room quickly.  
"You're pathetic, Vince."  
"Oh just fuck off! You've never thought any better of me!" He reaches for an object; anything, then launches it before knowing what he had thrown.

**Smash.  
The lamp breaks into pieces against the door.  
Shards litter the floor threatening to slice anything in their path.  
He yells.  
Curses.  
Screams.  
Breaks down.**

He throws the cover off his naked body and pulls on some boxers and clean jeans, sharp pieces from his broken lamp cut into his feet. His anger rises as the blood dribbles onto the carpet; he looses his temper, throws whatever he can and smashes anything breakable. He stops in front of the mirror and stares at himself.

**Panting for breath.  
Tears of anger well in his eyes.  
His reflection glares back angrily.  
His fists clench.  
He edges closer.  
His breath hot on the reflective surface.  
One swift flash of his arm.  
Smash.  
His fist connects with the mirror.  
Cracks develop, grow and spread from his knuckles.  
His heart pounds.  
His **chest feels** weak.  
His hands shake and tremble.  
Blood fills the black cracks in the mirror.  
Creating a spiderweb of red. **

Vince breathes hard and fast, his hand still stuck to the mirror, his fist the epicentre of the smash trembles violently causing a few pieces of glass to fall out and rain down on the carpet.  
Slowly he pulls back his hand, the mirror crunches, his face drops to an expression of pain and blood gushes from his knuckles. He gazes at his hand seeing his reflection in tiny shards of the mirror stuck in his flesh, he flexes his fingers sending pain shooting up his arm.  
He glances at the broken mirror; parts of his reflection are missing making his face appear cracked and uneven.

**Broken.  
He feels broken.  
The anger defeats him.  
He comes down from his deadly high.  
Clutches his throbbing hand.  
Pants with rage at the mirror.  
Cursing his friend.  
Cursing his destructive ways.  
Cursing his addiction to sex.  
Cursing himself.**


	6. Envy

**Second to the last sin now, this isn't an especially good one in my opinion but it fits the sin.  
Plus this happens a couple of hours after Wrath...Sorry I'm doing a Star Wars and fucking up the numerical order :P  
Next up is Pride (Vanity) which I've been looking forward to writing so I'll try and make it a good one!  
xx  
**

**Envy**

_Hating other people for what they have_

Another boring day in the shop, Naboo has gone off to a Shaman meeting and Howard isn't speaking to me at all, my head feels like it's being split into two with a saw and my knuckles are swollen and constantly stinging. The bandage round my fingers have made them feel cold and lifeless, I tap the counter gently with my numb fingertips and flick through a magazine idly. My eyes go out of focus on the text so instead I look at the pictures, the glossy pages shine in the light making me tip the paper slightly to see the photo properly.

I can sense him stood near me, just out of my eye line. Last time I glanced he was stood with his back to me leaning against the counter, he hasn't spoken to me since he stormed out of the bedroom screaming at me to fuck off. I haven't bothered to say anything to him either; he hasn't even said anything about my wrapped up hand. I know he's seen it though, he was starring for at least five minutes. The bell above the shop rings sending shocks to my delicate head increasing the headache slightly, I look up from my magazine, Howard's head lifts too towards the door where a young lady has just walked in. Her hair is amazing, tied back with bangs hanging down near her eyes; her fringe lies across her forehead to the side perfectly. In the light the strands glisten red but her hair colour appears a black or dark brown at least. A pair of sunglasses sit on top of her head, the sun had disappeared behind a cloud ten minutes ago flooding the shop in shade and cold. Her green eyes sparkle under the shop light, a pair of lightning bolt earrings jingle and clang together as she enters. Her clothes make her look sophisticated even though they are a pair of skinny jeans, some converse and a low cut V-neck top which stretches down past where the pockets of her jeans should be. I notice a pink band that sits on her wrist, a charity band probably.

I sit up expecting her to wander over to me with a dazzling smile but instead she heads straight to a stand of old records, Jazz records. My own smile fades, the pain in my hand comes back a split second later and I sit back in my seat, chin in my good hand flicking back through the pages. She can't be very cool if she likes Jazz but I keep finding myself glancing at her every so often just to see if she looks my way.  
Which she doesn't.

She picks up a record and turns in our direction asking how much it is, I shrug half-heartedly but Howard wanders over to talk with her, I feel a strange pang in my stomach as he does. This is strange, the tables have turned and I don't like it.

She laughs at his jokes, smiles at him whenever they catch eye contact, he shows her Jazz vinyl's, she gathers a few up in her arms and flicks through them, she reads the back covers while he blurts out random boring old facts about Jazz. She loves it all though, but she shouldn't. She should be talking to me; we should be chatting about Gary Numan, clothes, accessories and shiny things.  
He pulls a record from the rack and flips it over in his hands saying it's a very 'rare LP'. Unfortunately for me he puts it on the record player and together they listen to the music, talk about the artist and even scat along with it.  
My headache worsens with the awful genre that makes me feel physically sick, why is he doing this to me? Putting me through this torture when he knows I am allergic to Jazz, when he knows this girl should like me and not him. He glances over his shoulder at me, my chin still in my hand, my eyes stuck on the two of them, my skin appears paler on my arms, my headache turns to dizzy spells. I glare at him when he looks again but he gives me a blank look and turns back to the girl. 

With my head in my hands I watch them constantly, they've changed the record now to more Jazz, they've been talking for at least twenty minutes now and had even danced together to one of the records. Eventually they stop and she turns to him and asks him one thing, one thing she should be asking me.  
'Do you want to go for a coffee sometime?' Yes, I'd love to but obviously I'm not good enough for you. You want the Jazzy Northern freak instead.  
He nods, says he'd love to and cheekily glances back at me again with a slight smile on his face. I scowl at him, he knows he's pissed me off now.  
'Here's my number.' She grins handing over a piece of paper she has just scribbled on 'Give me a call and we'll arrange something, yeah?' he nods dumbly and smiles at her, she picks up one of the records and brings it over to the counter with him following 'I'll take this please.' She smiles warmly at me, a smile that almost appears like she feels sorry for me.  
I just stare at her still with a scowl on my face and my chin in my hand, Howard coughs to try and get me to react and take her money, I don't move, don't bother. Why should I? She's his girl, not mine. She doesn't want my attention so why should I give it her? 

I hear Howard sigh, he takes the money from her and apologises for my behaviour, I stare at her, stare her out making her feel nervous and uncomfortable, I can see it working but when she looks at him and smiles her nerves melt away, I can tell. I should have been the one to do that; I should be the one to make her feel comfortable around Howard Moon, the Jazz weirdo.  
'Thank you' she grins then glances down at me, her smile drops and I say nothing but stare and tap my fingers against the counter. She glances down and notices my hand is bandaged, I nod my head in Howard's direction ever so slightly, she notices and thinks he was the one who messed my hand up. Her lips part a little into the formation of an 'o' as Howard walks with her to the shop door and wishes her a good day, he mentions about coffee and she warms up again and grins, nods and leaves with her stupid record under her arm. 

When he shuts the door, he turns to me and scowls deeply then heads into the back of the shop.

'Watch out Vince, your eyes are turning green.' He mutters at me as I stare down at my magazine still with a frown planted on my face at actually not getting the girl for once.


	7. Pride

**The final and most deadliest sin of all seven :)  
And the one I have enjoyed writing the most, this leads on directly after Wrath, about an hour after he smashes the mirror  
I like to fuck the numerical order up :)  
Anyway, that's it from the sins so enjoy :) xxxx**

**Pride**

_A desire to be important or attractive to others or excessive love of self_

He stares at himself in the broken shards of the mirror, an hour ago he gained seven years of bad luck and didn't care one bit. The broken pieces still hanging on the wall are caked in dried blood.  
With a pair of silver tweezers he sits on his bed, his hand trembling badly, he scrunches his bruised hand into a painful fist making the shards of glass stand out and carefully he plucks them from his flesh. He mumbles with pain each time he does, a tear reaches his eye and trickles down his face. Eventually he gives up and heads to the bathroom.

**He fills the sink with water.  
Hot water.  
He dips in his bruised hand.  
The pain sizzles up his arm.  
Blood swirls into the sink and clouds around his fist.  
He brings it out, shakes it gently then cups water into his hands.  
He splashes water over his face.  
Runs his good hand through his hair wetting the strands.  
He towel dries his face and hands.  
Careful of the purple bruising.  
He pulls a white strip of bandage from the medicine cabinet.  
Ties it round his swollen, throbbing fingers and stares at his reflection in the mirror.**

His skin is pale and his eyes are sat above dark circles. His pupils looks red and bloodshot from tears and frustration, his hair is damp and in need of mousse, hair spray, a hairdryer, a brush and straightners.

**In his bedroom.  
With his good hand.  
And as best he can with his bad one.  
He combs through his wet hair.  
Tugs out knots in strands.  
Parts clumps of hair.  
Rids himself of any traces of sexual desire. **

With material on his hand he reaches for the can of hair mousse on his dresser, with murmurs and mumbles of pain he un-caps it and sits down in front of one of the mirrors that isn't broken. A large one that sits silently on top of his dresser surrounded with products, make up and hair care stuff. He tries to smile but can't, he looks and feels broken and ugly, his face his completely naked. He isn't happy with his appearance so he fixes it.

**His hair.  
He squirts a clump of white mousse into his palm.  
It expands and smells of fruits.  
He reaches up to his hair.  
Using only one hand.  
Proving more difficult than it seems.  
And spreads the product through his hair.  
From root to tip.  
Root to tip.  
Until he is satisfied.  
He combs it through.  
Then uses a hair brush and goes through it again.  
He reaches for his hairdryer.  
Turns on his straightners at the same time.  
And applies hot air to his pride and joy.**

He blow dries each strand carefully holding the hairdryer with his bandaged hand as best he can and combs it through with his good hand. His face creases into pain every so often but he dismisses it trying to get beautiful again.  
His hair becomes fluffy and bouncy; he smiles at its softness and fruity smell. He looks at himself in the mirror, straight in the eye but still feels ugly with black shades under his gorgeous blue pupils.

**His face.  
He uses face wipes to clean out his pores.  
Wipes around his eyes.  
Lips.  
Nose.  
Over his Cheeks.  
Closes his eyes and wipes over them.  
Removing any stain from the previous night.  
Wipes at his forehead then over his neck.  
Tosses the wipe in the bin.  
He pats at his skin.  
Checks for spots.  
Patches.  
Marks.  
Blemishes.  
Checks his neck for passionate bites.  
Finds none. **

He looks once again, still no change in his face and still he feels vile. He pulls a purple bag out from a draw and tips its contents onto the surface of the dresser. Various shades of eyeshadow roll across the wood, three eyeliner pens drop out and try to escape off the dresser but he catches them quickly. Lip gloss and balm even falls out of the bag, blusher, foundation and creams for spots. Mascara and body glitter joins the pile too.

**Eyes.  
His eyes need brightening.  
To take away the fact he has a hangover.  
He needs a cover up.  
He paints his eyes in black eyeliner.  
A line under each.  
They bring out his pupils.  
Make them appear wider.  
Brighter.  
More awake.  
More alive and glamorous.  
Eyeshadow above his eyes.  
To bring the blue out even more.  
A hint of glitter in the white eyeshadow.  
His eyes sparkle but still appear to be in the shade.**

He frowns at his eyes not looking as beautiful as they should, he reaches for his foundation and mixes some on the back of his hand getting the shade just right, he stares at his bruised hand, the vicious purple attacking his skin making it appear odd and ugly.

**Cheekbones.  
First he covers up the shadows under his eyes.  
Perfect.  
He adds blusher to make his cheekbones stand out.  
Blusher that almost appears as though it is invisible.  
He feels better, a little better.  
He smells burning.**

His straightners blink red signalling they are hot enough. He picks them up almost not caring if he burns his hands on them and sets to work on his hair.

**Back to his hair.  
Runs black strands through the hot plates.  
Straightening them out.  
Steam rises and disappears in the cold air.  
****He flicks the instrument outwards.  
****His hair follows.  
****Forming flicks.  
****Some straight.  
****Most straight.  
****He spends ten minutes on his fringe.  
****Getting each piece in place.  
****Back in line.  
****He pauses.  
****Reaches for Root Boost.  
****Applies some.  
****Reaches for Naboo's miracle wax.  
****Applies some.  
****Reaches for the hairspray.  
****Stops.  
****He sees one strand of hair out of line.  
****Eyes wide, he attacks it with the hot straightners.  
****Then the hairspray.  
****He douses his hair in the stuff.  
****He coughs.  
****Wafts away the mist.  
****Smiles.**

Next he heads to his wardrobe and changes out of his skinny jeans and exchanges them for a different outfit.

**His body.  
****He pulls out outfits.  
****Different tops.  
****Matching jeans.  
****Scarves.  
****Accessories.  
****He holds an outfit up to his body.  
****Looking into his ceiling to floor mirror.  
****Another one that isn't broken.  
****Delicate silk top with skinny black jeans.  
****No.  
****Bondage trousers with a sleeveless top.  
****No.  
****Mirror ball suit.  
****No.  
****Glam-rock-ski-suit.  
****Definitely not.  
****Lightning bolt tee with drainpipes and a pac-man belt.  
****Maybe.  
****Leopard skin jacket.  
****No.  
****Cowboy hat.  
****No.  
****Cowboy boots.  
****Maybe.  
****Converse.  
****No.  
****An endless circle.  
****Five outfits on the bed.  
****Decision time.**

He holds each outfit up to his chest and legs once again while trying on hats and holding belts against his hips over the top of jeans. Each time he smiles but sometimes he frowns.

**Drainpipes to make the hip bones stand out.  
****To show off his legs.  
****To show he is thin.  
****Lightning bolt t-shirt, which hugs his figure.  
****To show he has a flat stomach.  
****To show he is thin.  
No hat.  
Perfect hair.  
No hat hair.  
One accessory.  
One guitar pendant.  
A pac-man belt to finish it off.  
Cowboy boots.  
Done.**

He turns to his wall length mirror one more time and takes an overall look at himself.

**Straightened hair.  
Bunched at the top.  
Make up done.  
Eyeliner perfect.  
Cheekbones visible.  
Shadows gone.  
Knuckles wrapped and covered.  
Will be fine in a few days.  
Clothes are neat.  
Everything matches.  
Accessories are important.  
Shoes are tied.  
**

He smiles at himself in the mirror.

**More important.  
Attractive.  
Sexy.  
Glamorous.  
Amazing.  
Stunning.  
Beautiful.  
Perfect.  
**

He frowns at his reflection in the broken mirror.

**Big headed.  
Large ego.  
Self-obsessive.  
Arrogant.  
Cocky.  
Conceited.  
Proud.  
Vain.**


End file.
